Dead Sea
by ELO72387
Summary: Cassie just lost her family during the attack on the prison group, on her own she loses sight of who she is and turns back to the comfort of alcohol, something she gave up long ago. Will a chance meeting with Rick and Carl help her to find herself again or will the guilt consume her alive? Set after midseason finale.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, I wish I did but I just borrow the characters once in awhile.

Authors Note: Cassie is represented by the actress Claire Bowen. This takes place after the attack on the prison during the midseason finale.

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The room was still dark when Cassie woke up. She had been staying in the abandoned bar for about a week now. And in that week she had fallen back into old habits. The young woman had managed to not drink throughout the entire apocalypse, then again she had not been alone till now. Cassie had been travelling with her family when everything went down. They were heading to Georgia to visit her mother's family, and they were in Macon when the walkers rose. She had felt thankful that neither of her parents had been killed. It wasn't like they were a group with a lot of survival skills. Her mother had been a southern belle, her father the mayor of Nashville. And Cassie, well all she knew was what she had learned watching survival shows on television. But somehow against all odds the trio had persevered, up until about two weeks prior.

It had been just a stupid mistake. Cassie still blamed herself. They had joined up with a group, something that they always tried to avoid. But there were women in the group and they had weapons and supplies that the trio desperately needed. All was going good until the man with one eye had shown up with two women and a child. She could tell that Martinez knew the man, knew more than the story they had told. But she ignored her instincts and went along with the flow. The next thing she knew Martinez was dead, some others were missing and they had kidnapped a one legged man and a black woman.

Cassie knew that they should have run then. But her mother looked so tired, and her father, well it seemed he had lost the will to go on. So she stayed silent and grabbed the gun that was tossed to her and followed along as they went to try and take a prison. She shook her head and grabbed a half full bottle of vodka, raising it to her lips and taking a few gulps. She was still feeling the buzz she had when she had first fallen asleep, so she could not have been out for very long. It had been her parents that had kept her from the alcohol throughout the past couple years. Without them, travelling alone she lost the will to stay sober, couldn't seem to find a reason too. So for the past week she had been drinking trying to forget seeing her father get his throat torn out, her mother shot as she tried to get out of attacking the prison. Cassie had fled in the chaos and just kept moving.

But the guilt had been eating at her. Cassie knew her mother was still alive when she fled, but she left the woman there to bleed out and turn. It was selfish, but she had been terrified, and knew that it would have been hard to take care of the injured woman on her own. She had fled with no supplies but her gun and some spare ammo shoved in a pocket. At night she hid in trees, during the day she ran as far as she could. It took her a week to find the small town, and like a moth to the flame she was drawn to the bar. It was a surprise that when she entered there were no walkers around, and the place was intact, someone had boarded the windows so all she had to do was barricade the door. That first day she sat on a stool and downed a bottle of whiskey before searching the place for supplies. There was plenty of liquor obviously. Food wise she found some bags of stale chips, a box full of little bags of peanuts and sunflower seeds and one case of bottled water. There was also a shotgun and a box of shells beneath the bar. It wasn't much, but she was happy to have any food at all. Cassie was pretty much worthless when it came to hunting.

When she found the bedroom upstairs she had almost let out a squeal of delight. But her time on the road with her parents had taught her to be quiet. So the drunken girl collapsed on the bed and passed out for a full twenty-four hours. Now she was down to a few bottles of water, about 10 packets of nuts and still lots of alcohol. Cassie knew that it was time to move on, but she didn't want to leave the small haven that she had found for herself. Since being there she hadn't needed to kill any walkers, she hadn't seen any people either. It was a solitary existence, but she was able to drink as much as she wanted in an attempt to forget. But the forgetting never happened.

The room was starting to lighten as the sun came up and she stood up slowly and made her way to the dresser bottle still in hand. She set it down on the dusty surface and looked up at the mirror and scowled at her reflection. Her curly blonde hair was frizzy and her blue eyes looked haunted. There were dark circles surrounding them and she was filthy. She yearned to take a shower, but knew that would not happen anytime soon and she could not waste what water she had to use for washing. It would be a waste of what she had, and Cassie knew she needed every bottle out on the road. She would have to leave soon, but figured she could search the town she was in for more supplies before heading out. The young woman took another swig of vodka before peering out the window, there didn't seem to be any walkers milling about and she knew that she should get started on scavenging while she could. There were a few houses across the street and a small general store that she figured would be a good place to start. Her eyes burned and she rubbed them wearily, it probably was not the best idea to go out there while intoxicated, but she always had been a functioning alcoholic.

The petite woman grabbed an empty backpack from next to the bed and slowly crept down the stairs. She heard no noises from below but would rather be safe than sorry. In one hand she carried a butchers knife that she had found discarded outside the bar, there had been blood staining the silver blade that she had cleaned. It was not the best of knives, but it was silent and she had learned long ago that a silent weapon was for the best. A cursory look around the bar showed it was still empty, the door jammed shut with a stool and table in front of it, none of the windows disturbed. Her hands shook as she moved the barricade; she was not looking forward to going outdoors, but knew it had to be done. She glanced back and hesitated wanting to drink more before heading out. But with a deep breath she shoved open the door and blinked as she stepped into the sunlight. It was bright even though it was early. She blinked a few times before closing the door behind her, hoping that no one would break into her hideaway while she was gone.

Cassie moved slowly across the silent street. It was a hot day, not even the wind blew to disturb the heavy heat that settled on her. She knew that it would not be long before she was covered in sweat. She wiped moist palms on her denim clad thighs before glancing around and heading to an empty house directly across from the bar. She paused near the door and looked around again to make sure no one was near, or approaching. Not seeing or hearing anything the young woman moved to one of the windows and peeked in. The room looked abandoned, stuff tossed about. It was not looking like she would find much, but she still had to try. The door opened easily when she pushed it, another disheartening signal she walked in and took a slow breath in through her nose. The room smelt musty and there was the faint odor of rotting food. But she didn't smell the rank scent the walkers left behind.

Cassie leaned against the wall for a moment and sighed her head was spinning slightly from the heat and alcohol in her system, but she only took enough time to steady herself before moving further into the house, closing the door behind her. She breathed slowly as she walked forward and frowned when she noticed the footsteps in the dust. There were two sets, one smaller than the other. She knew that they had to have been placed somewhat recently since there was not even a thin layer of dust covering them. Cassie gripped the knife tighter as she crept forward as quietly as possible hoping that the floor would not squeak and give her away if anyone was still inside the house. She just hoped they had moved on already, her last experience with a group had soured her on the whole thing.

A sound came from the kitchen and she froze not even risking taking a breath. Cassie heard someone rifling through cabinets and glanced around looking to see if there was anywhere she could hide. But that went out the window when the front door to the house opened once again.

"Who are you?" The voice from behind her sounded young and she figured it belonged to the smaller set of foot prints that she had seen. Cassie wondered what the odds were of her escaping but saw someone come from the kitchen at the sound of the voice. Her face paled when she recognized the man before her, he had been at the prison, had been what she assumed was the leader of the group.

"Cassie." She whispered before swallowing. During the fight she had been towards the back so it was possible that they would not know who she was. The man before her had a weary look in his eyes, but did not seem to recognize her. Cassie just hoped that it would stay that way. It wouldn't likely matter to them that she had not wanted to attack, she was still there when they lost what they considered home. "Please, I had no idea that anyone was here. I will leave y'all alone. Just let me go."

"Are you alone?" The man had a husky voice as he spoke and studied the woman. Cassie's eyes scanned him and widened slightly when she noticed that his shirt was crusty with dried blood. But a patch near his ribs on the left side looked to be still wet.

"I don't have anyone, not anymore." Cassie's eyes darted to the side as she spoke again and saw a sullen looking teenager with a sheriff's hat walking around a gun trained on her. She felt her heart start to thud in her chest and prayed that he wouldn't shoot, there was no way in her intoxicated state that she would be able to avoid getting hit, not at this distance. "I've been staying in the bar across the way." Her arm went behind her gesturing towards where her hide out lay.

"You don't have to go just yet." The older man said still studying her. "Have you seen anyone else wandering around here? We lost our group." His voice was starting to get weaker and she shook her head, eyes darting around the room trying to figure out a way to escape the situation. The man looked at the other person in the room, "Did you have any luck?" He asked gesturing at the bag in the boys hand with a grimace of pain.

"Some. Was able to find some first aid supplies next door, should be able to patch you up." He kept his eyes trained on Cassie as he responded. "But I couldn't find any antibiotics to help with the infection." They hadn't had any time to stop and treat the wound and now he worried that they would be too late halting it.

"I have some." Cassie said surprising herself. She was trying to get away, and here she was offering them help. She didn't understand it, but guessed it had to do with the guilt. "They are in the bar with my supplies."

"Lead the way." The man said before nodding at the younger one who lowered the gun. "I'm Rick, this is my son Carl." He offered a wary smile at the woman and hoped that she had been being honest with them. He couldn't afford to not trust her at that moment though. His head was pounding and the wound hurt like hell. He needed something to kill the infection; he couldn't bare leaving Carl out on his own.


End file.
